WWWWWWWWWWWWWWW^W^^WWWWWWWWWW^W

Chinese Night
BY HARRIET WELLES
Author o£ "Anchors Aweigh," etc.

N Tuesday morning—just before they would have no compunction about

O he left to go to the assistance of wholesale looting and killing in every

a junior representative of his city and village through which they
company some miles farther up the pass. And the soldiers will be only a
Yangtsze River—Jim Carson took his small part of the danger; in the result-
revolver from a lower drawer and car- ing chaos criminals and, worst of all,
ried it into the Hving-room, where his the unspeakably diseased human dere-
wife was dusting the things too valuable licts will seize upon such an opportunity
to be intrusted to the house-boy. Car- to assert themselves."
son's voice was quiet as he explained the "Are you trying to frighten me? I've
mechanism of the loaded weapon, then lived in China eighteen years and have-
laid it down upon the mantel-shelf. n't yet seen any of your derelicts!"
"While I know it's the usual custom "You wouldn't. I've often told you
for a man, in one of these remote up- that, having given your time to the
river places, to give his wife a revolver study and collection of Chinese an-
and explain to her just why she must tiques, you know nothing of the people
use it to prevent herself from falling or the country." Very seriously he add-
into the hands of an anti-foreign Chi- ed: "If it wasn't for that tiny Jenson
nese mob, I've always considered such baby, I wouldn't leave you now."
talk melodramatic. I've never before felt She paused in her placing of the tur-
that I faced the necessity for it until quoise-incrusted bronzes on the mantel
these Russo-Chinese ructions. But yes- to smile at him. "When all this uproar
terday"—he hesitated a second—"I saw is over how would we feel if anything
the bodies of two women hanging in had happened to that forlorn delicate
the city gate. They were—horribly mu- mite ? Besides, this house is well out of
tilated " the city. I speak some Chinese, have the
Mary Carson, absorbed in the rear- servants to depend upon, and, in case of
rangement of a group of tomb jades, serious trouble, an American gunboat
commented: "I'm glad to have the re- from the Yangtsze patrol would rescue
volver, although, of course, I shall not me."
need it." Worriedly she questioned: "I'm not so sure of that when there
"Would a mob steal or destroy my are numbers of Americans from inland
things? I'd hate that!" flocking to the river ports below us."
He answered gravely: "If the great Mrs. Carson was dusting a small Chi-
battle now being fought above here nese painting; she waited to finish be-
proves decisive the retreating force, to fore she asked: "When will you get
avoid crossing the Yangtsze, would back?"
come this way. None of the soldiers on "Probably by to-morrow noon; cer-
either side has been paid in months; tainly by dinner-time. The launch is
208

PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
 CHINESE NIGHT
fast, and the Jensons will step briskly
when I've said the few words I'm plan-
ning to them."
"Shameonyou, Jim!" laughed Mary
Carson. She followed him out to the
hall and waited there while he went
into the kitchen to speak to the servants.
But by the time he returned all thoughts
of his going were swept from her mind,
The outer doorway framed a ragged
coolie carrying a carved jade bowl of
such superlative color and workman-
ship that the sight of it made Mrs. Car-
son catch her breath. She was turning
it in hands that trembled when her hus-
band came back into the hall, put on the
overcoat held by the house-boy, and in-
dicated his suitcase: "Carry that down
to the launch, Ong."
"Loo\, Jim!"
He came over to her, saw the bowl,
examined the carving and the color.
"Superb!" he said. "Any one who
knows China would only need to glance
once at that to see vermilion-lacquered
temples vivid against bitter, blue-white
snow; gnarled blossoming pear-trees
bordering roads sunken deep by the
traffic of centuries; massed hollyhocks
against the lacelike carvings of marble
benches and balustrades; camel-trains
shufHing along through clouds of gold-
en dust; gray bamboo thickets above sil-
very waterfalls; curving roof-poles with
wind-bells, chiming; wild geese etched
across the moon."
"He's asking only eight dollars!"
Jim Carson glanced at her flushed
cheeks and eager eyes. "But, Mary, you
must realize where that bowl came
from! The Liangs! They've the only
palace within miles where such a thing
would be used.''
She nodded.
"Did it occur to you what must have
happened to the princess and her fam-
PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
IO9
ily, when that bowl could be offered for
sale at such a price by a coolie ?"
"Looting ?"
"Murder first," he supplemented,
and turned away. "I must hurry—so as
to get back quickly!" commented Jim
Carson worriedly. "Good-by, Mary!
Don't buy the bowl. You'd never look
at it without remembering that charm-
ing gentle Princess Liang."
. . . Afterward Mary Carson could
not recall whether she answered his
farewell. The launch had hardly left
the dock when, concluding her bargain-
ing with the coohe, she set the jade
bowl down upon a cabinet in the living-
room.
"I had nothing to do with the loot-
ing I And it's immensely interesting and
valuable," she justified herself.
That was on Tuesday morning. Now,
on Saturday afternoon, Jim had neither
returned nor sent a message. At noon
on Friday the trembling house-boy in-
formed Mrs. Carson that General Sun-
Chaun-fang's army, in full retreat, had
entered the city and were looting the
Liang's palace, the pawn-shops, stores,
and houses.
Unfounded rumors, idle gossip, Mary
Carson decided.
But there was about this strange drag-
ging Saturday a growing unreahty. All
of her little world had gone silent. Try-
ing to use the telephone to speak with
Jim's compradore in the city, she came
up against a blank wall. A coolie, des-
patched with a note to the same man,
never returned; his wife, the sewing-wo-
man, going fearfully in search of him,
also vanished. And now, muffled by dis-
tance, a curious uproar was coming from
the teeming streets, usurping the cus-
tomary booming of temple-bells, the
clatter of ceremonial gongs, the cries of
210 CHINESE
venders. Stranger still, all traffic had dis-
appeared from the river; neither rafts,
steamers, nor bat-winged cargo-junks
had passed for hours.
Luncheon was a difficult meal. Mrs.
Carson was increasingly aware of the
house-boy's guarded scrutiny, and of
the cook's black unwinking eyes regard-
ing her every motion through the crack
of the pantry door. Orientals were like
that, she pondered uneasily; no matter
how long they were with you you never
understood them.
Well, the longest day comes to an
end. Now, as tea-time was near, Mary
Carson laid down her book and, relax-
ing, glanced for reassurance about the
familiar living-room. On cabinets, ta-
bles, and mantel were the treasures
which, during the years while Jim was
going about the company's business in
many far-flung places, she had pains-
takingly acquired. They were her in-
surance against misfortune. Offered for
sale, there would be almost no limit to
what they would bring from collec-
tors—and the jade bowl, although mod-
ern, was a lovely finish. Which piece,
she wondered idly, would be considered
the most desirable? The small stone
carving of a goddess dug up from an
imperial grave-mound? She had once
questioned Jim as to its probable value,
This side of the question did not in-
terest him. "That same goddess is
carved upon the walls of a temple the
archaeologists excavated in Cochin-
China—just beyond where those fruit-
company people were starting a banana-
plantation. Ever see them do that ? An
army of natives goes through the jun-
gle sticking little pieces of banana-stalk
into the ground as nearly as possible in
rows. Then they cut down all the trees
and when, under the hot sun, these are
dry they set fire to them. The resulting
PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
NIGHT
wood-ash is a wonderful fertilizer for
the new banana sprouts."
Jim paused to laugh. "I was going
over your goddess's temple on the day
when the fruit-company's men were
burning off the underbrush—and you
should have seen the archseologists and
me get out of harm's way! Ahead of
that fire a multitude of snakes were rac-
ing out of the jungle, and some of them
were so enormous that they held their
heads three or four feet off the ground
and went at express-train speed!—I
never look at your serene, aloof, pen-
sive goddess without wondering if, dur-
ing all the centuries of fantastic rites she
has watched, she ever saw a stranger
sight than that advance-guard to the
march of progress."
Mary Carson smiled, remembering
— But the pair of bronze incense-burn-
ers, studded with rough turquoise,
were probably the most valuable—she
had bought them from a young priest
during a rice-riot in a village near the
Thibetan border,
Complacently her glance went from
the incense-burners to the little painting
by Li Lung Mien, and came to rest on
the carved jade bowl. "Loz'e/y.'" she de-
cided; then wondered, with a strange
new discomfort, if Jim had been right
in his surmises about the Liangs.
Under ordinary circumstances the
Carsons could never have known Prin-
cess Liang. But the exalted lady, desir-
ing to instruct her children in Enghsh
—and needing to refresh her knowledge
of that language—inquired through
Jim's Chinese compradore whether the
United States Excellencies could tell her
of some one who would come to the pal-
ace and read English with the princess,
Mary Carson's cheeks flushed with ex-
citement when Jim repeated the in-
quiry. "I'd love to go!" she exclaimed.
 CHINESE NIGHT III

"I'll never again get a chance to see the selves in the houses of relatives." The
inside of such a magnificent old palace, amah's voice broke into a sob: "Man
and their paintings and bronzes." came and say that any Chinese found
Jim agreed. "There's a family, living working for foreigner will be tortured
the ancient patriarchal life: the old and killed."
prince, his sons and their chief and sec- "Why didn't you go too, Ah-ne ?"
ondary vi^ives, and the many children in "I started. Excellency—although I
those hundreds of rooms! People who, know how fares any woman the sol-
for centuries, have remained aloof in a diers capture"—her voice dwindled to
position of unchallenged superiority." a thin whisper—"but swiftly I return-
Frovening, Mrs. Carson realized that ed —"
she had never considered this view^- ' 'You didn't want to leave me alone ?"
point. Beyond an intense interest in the "I did not think of you. Excellency.
treasures in the palace, she had learned Foreigners are rich and powerful; al-
little during her months of contact with ways they quickly avenge themselves.
the family. But we Chinese-of-the-poor are without
redress. Of course if the master had been
Suddenly rousing herself from her here—but the master is not here "
profitless musings she was conscious "Why did you return?" commenced
that the room was growing dark and Mrs. Carson. Behind her came a sharp
cold. She rang the bell for the house- tap. Following the amah's terrified
boy. With hot tea, with lights, with a glance she turned. The narrow windows
bright fire in the grate, she could ward opened on the side of the house which
off the sense of foreboding which seem- continued the high garden wall, bor-
ed hovering near. dering on a narrow path to the river.
The house-boy did not answer the As Mary Carson looked, the centre pane
bell and Mrs. Carson rang again; long- framed a man's face, hideously ulcer-
er this time. Still the house-boy did not ated, discolored, and disfigured. A leer-
come. Irritated, Mary Carson went out ing face, hardly human.
through the main hall into the wing Mrs. Carson fought back a feeling of
and opened the kitchen door. The room engulfing faintness. "Who—what?"
was so silent that, at first, she thought she whispered.
it empty, and turned away. A faint "The unspeakable unclean ones from
movement stopped her; her eyes becom- the mat huts beyond the city."
ing accustomed to the gloom she saw "Lepers?" Mrs. Carson gasped. "How
that her young maid crouched in the many?"
narrow space between the cook-stove "Three I saw, before I fled back."
and the wall. "Can they break through the gate?"
"I rang—didn't you hear me? "Yes. But not until they are sure we
Where is the cook ? Where is the house- are alone."
boy?" "Could we offer them money? Or
The amah whispered: "Gone." some of my valuable Chinese things in
In Chinese her mistress demanded: the living-room?"
"Gone where? It's tea-time! And why "To try to bribe them would be an
are you hiding behind the stove?" admission of our helplessness." Ah-ne
"Gone to the city—to secrete them- shivered. "They want neither money

PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
2.11 CHINESE NIGHT
nor loot. My mother has told me of
them during other uprisings. And we
are two women—alone—" She broke
off sharply and stifled a scream. One of
the lepers, pressing his leering face close
to the glass, tapped more insistently.
Mary Carson mastered a feeling of
nausea, and whispered: "It's just a
ghastly dream! Nothing so hideous can
be real!" The room was very still. Then,
more boldly, the leper pounded with his
fist. Mrs. Carson roused herself to ac-
tion. "If we stay here they'll soon real-
ize that we are alone. Fix some bread
and butter and cut some cake while I
fill the hot-water kettle." Lifting her
voice as though speaking to some one in
a farther room she called in Chinese:
"Tea will be ready in a minute!" To the
trembling Ah-ne she whispered: "Come
into the living-room. From there we can
see the river and watch for the master's
launch."
Ah-ne obeyed mechanically. But in
the living-room she made a comment:
"To-day we heard of much fighting
around the house of Mr. Jenson."
"Who told you that?"
"Chinese sailor, whose junk was near
there."
"What else did he tell you?"
"Nothing, Excellency."
Mrs. Carson forced herself to drink
some tea; then leaned back in her chair.
The tumult in the city had dropped
with nightfall to an occasional outburst
of shooting, but in this house near the
river the silence seemed closing down
and growing until it was almost visible,
louder than sound, sinister past any
imagining. It got on Mrs. Carson's
nerves. "I'll put a record on the phono-
graph." She took up and adjusted the
nearest disk and started the machine. A
sprinkling of notes preceded a clear
voice:
PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
"Goin' home, goin' home,
I'm agoin' home!
Quiet like, some still day,
I'm agoin' home.
It's not far, just near by
Through an open door—
Ah-ne screamed shrilly: "Excellen-
cy!"
Mary Carson wheeled around. Skulk-
ing figures were in the passage. For a
dreadful second it seemed to her that
her knees would refuse to hold her,
then her frenzied glance fell upon the
revolver still lying on the mantel-shelf
where Jim had placed it. Breathlessly
she dashed across the room and grasped
it. Behind her the phonograph went on,
the appealing voice finished upon a
lovely note. For a moment the only
sound in the room was the rasping grind
of the needle against the record. Then
the lepers, gathering courage, stepped
into the doorway, hideous figures in
filthy tatters, their faces horribly re-
vealed, their sore, inflamed eyes blink-
ing.
Ah-ne retreated to the French win-
dow opening upon the porch and the
river-bank; the lepers barred their only
other exit. Realizing this, Mary Carson
suddenly succumbed to unreasoning
panic. "Go!" she shrieked in Chinese.
"Go far!" and fired the revolver.
They went. Above the mechanical
grinding of the phonograph came back
the sound of their fleeing feet and in-
articulate cries of terror; a crash as the
bars on the garden-gate were flung
down and the gate slammed back.
Mrs. Carson, trembling, switched off
the phonograph and sat down. Ah-ne,
still standing, looked across the haze of
smoke and plaster dust, then down at
the revolver: "Empty?—and you killed
no one?"
"I didn't want to kill any one!—
 CHINESE NIGHT 113
What would we have done with a dead ' ashes made a perceptible sound. A floor-
leper?—I only wanted to frighten board creaked, a chair snapped. With
them!" nerves tense Mrs. Carson found herself
"One shot would have done that! on the verge of hysterical crying; pick-
What will you do if the lepers return ing up her book she commenced to read
or the soldiers come ?— The master aloud, imposing her faltering voice as a
meant the revolver to be used upon barrier against the sinister silence or
your own need. Excellency." threatening sounds:
Mrs. Carson could not answer. " 'In these days that are passing over
Ah-ne went out to the kitchen. In a us,' " quavered Mary Carson, " 'even
few moments she returned. "Excellen- fools are arrested to ask the meaning of
cy, I go now. My husband lies sick at them; few of the generations of men
the home of his mother. Best you should have seen more impressive days. Days
bar the garden-gate behind me." of endless calamity, disruption, disloca-
" You're going to leave me alone, tion, confusion worse confounded— It
Ah-ne?" is not a small hope that will suffice us,
"Yes, Excellency. You have said the the ruin being clearly—universal. There
master will arrive. My husband needs must be a new world if there is to be a
me. Except that I earn the only money world at all. The human beings—can
we get, I should not have left him." never return to their old sorry routine,
"Your husband's mother will care and proceed with any steadfastness or
for him." Mrs. Carson tried to steady continuance therein—this small hope
her voice. "I am alone." is not now a tenable one. These days of
The amah's eyes were bright with universal death must be days of univer-
tears. "All, at the home of my husband's sal rebirth, if the ruin is not to be total
mother, are sick with plague. In the or final. It is a time to make the dullest
house is no food." There was no doubt- man consider whence he came and
ing the bleak hopelessness of her words, whither he is bound. A veritable New
Mrs. Carson roused herself. "Get a Era to the foolish as well as to the
basket and take all the food you can wise
carry. God grant that you reach home She paused suddenly. From some-
safely. I'll take the lantern and go as far where up-stairs came the sound of a door
as the gate with you." moving slowly upon protesting hinges,
. . . Back in the living-room, with stopping, starting again, as though
Ah-ne gone, Mary Carson tried to put pushed by a cautious hand, then slam-
a barrage of action between herself and ming shut. Mary Carson was trembling
her thoughts, spending some moments before the final crash almost startled her
on the selection of Carlyle's essays from into screaming. But no sound or move-
among the books; putting away records, ment followed to betray a lurking pres-
closing the phonograph, going to the ence and, after holding her breath, she
window to peer riverward. The Chi- relaxed once more. A window had been
nese night had closed in, no tiniest star left open, she decided, noticing the in-
or point of light showed. Mrs. Carson creasing coldness. Finding herself grow-
turned back and sat down. In the grate ing chilly, and reassured by the continu-
the coal-fire was burning out; the room ing silence, she tiptoed into the hall,
was so still that the falling together of took down a coat, and put it on. Back

PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
 CHINESE
in her chair, she leaned forward rigidly.
It was so very quiet. Almost it seemed
that the house was holding its breath—
until a shutter slammed; it sounded
like a pistol-shot in the uncanny still-
ness; Mary Carson felt weak from the
shock of the noise. Curiously, too, this
room she so loved, into which she had
gathered those treasures the acquiring
of which had been her dominant inter-
est for years, assumed an alien menac-
ing look. Such value as they had, had
been suppUed by Jim—Jim, who cared
less than nothing for what he described
as things.
Outside a fitful wind was rising.
It commenced stealthily; then swiftly
increased. Somewhere—unnoticed in
the daily noises—a tree-branch rasped
against the house; to and fro, back and
forth—with a muffled whispering, a
monotonous nagging reiteration. An-
grily Mrs. Carson decided: "I'll have
that tree cut back to-morrow!" Then
caught herself. To-morrow: a meaning-
less combination of sounds, that word.
She commenced to cry. If only Jim
would come! It was cruel of him to leave
her to face such conditions alone! He
must realize how terrifying it was
Somewhere nearer there arose a sud-
den confused uproar of shouting and
shooting. Mrs. Carson sprang to her
feet and reached for the empty revolver.
Why—oh, why—had she wasted those
unnecessary shots? Now she was de-
fenseless, exposed to whatever might be
meted out to her. Unless there were
more bullets in the desk-drawer. But
could she reload the revolver? And
loaded, would she have the courage to
use it ? In an engulfing wave of desola-
tion she wondered if God minded peo-
ple arriving, uninvited, at his heaven.
Did he, in pouring out your draught of
PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
NIGHT
life, expect you to drink it down to the
last bitter drop?—reserving to himself
the punishment of those responsible for
your anguish, your sudden going—^but
demanding of you neither evasion nor
shrinking. A stern Father, requiring
obedience—"And shall I be inquired
of by you?— As I live, saith the Lord
God, / will not be inquired of by you
— " Austere words, favorites of Jim's,
read for the high quality of their mes-
sage in the days when blossoming plants
graced the celadon bowls and a fire
glowed in the polished grate. Different
sounding now, when courage was some-
thing more than a brave word; and Jim
was gone— Was he gone?
Mrs. Carson slipped from the chair;
kneeling, she buried her face in her
hands. "Dear God," she prayed, "don't
let Jim be so far ahead of me that I can't
catch up with him—help me—that no
matter what happens—before I get
away—Jim, looking back—won't be
ashamed of me—" Kneeling there, she
noticed that the turmoil had ceased.
Lulled by a new sense of comfort she
dozed; wakened with a jump; dozed,
and wakened again. When she arose she
was stiff and numb. Dully she wonder-
ed if this Chinese night would never
end; would go on and on forever.
The wind was blowing hard now. It
whirled some chaff across the porch,
rattled the windows, made a desolate
moaning in the chimney. The room was
very cold.
Again came the uproar of the mob.
She was so tired. Almost she wished that
the suspense might finish, that some-
thing definite would happen. But in a
second she regretted that wish, grew
rigid with fright again. Somewhere
near some one was walking with cau-
tious, muffled footsteps. In the house?
 CHINESE
Desperately she strained her ears—
no, outside—coming nearer—stealthily
gaining the porch. A fumbling hand
slid along the wall, to the long French
window, felt for the handle—very slow-
ly turned it, Mrs. Carson's fascinated
eyes were fixed upon the window. Had
she fastened it ? Would it open ? Were
the lepers returning? Or an advance-
guard of the howling mob ?
The door did not open. Instead, after
a moment, a tap sounded on the glass.
If only she had thought to put out the
light! Perhaps, if she kept very still,
whoever it was would go away. Vain
hope! Again came the knocking accom-
panied by a hoarse voice. Shivering, she
cowered in her chair; then, as panic
again threatened to overwhelm her, she
reminded herself that the time for ter-
ror was past; with only the glass of the
French window between her and the
person outside, whatever was imminent
could not be avoided. She walked to
the window and put back the curtain.
The light struck across the faded uni-
form of a Chinese soldier and a face
curiously gray, with dull eyes.
"What do you want?" asked Mary
Carson.
He stared blankly at her.
"This is a foreign house! In it are no
Chinese!"
He continued to stare.
"Go away!" she commanded.
He swayed; then slipped slowly to
the floor.
Mrs. Carson unfastened the window,
dragged him into the room, closed and
locked the window—and looked down
at the Ump figure. His shoddy uniform
was dripping wet, faded to colorlessness
except where a bright, new blood-stain
was spreading in a vivid patch. He was
emaciated, poor, helpless. With an ef-
PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
NIGHT 115
fort she lifted him onto the sofa, and
covered him with her coat. He cried out
as she moved him, muttered a few
words in an unintelligible dialect; but
even to inexperienced eyes the fact that
his climb up from the river had been a
last effort was apparent.
"I prayed for help—then kept him
waiting!" Mary Carson whispered as
she refilled the hot-water kettle, made
tea, and carried it to him. He swallowed
a little, but shook his head over her ef-
fort to remove his wet, blood-stained
coat.
Who was he? Where had he come
from ? What could he tell her of condi-
tions farther up the river? She never
knew. But in her attempts to make his
last hours easier the interminable night
passed; the first gray of dawn was in the
sky when, with a little sigh, the soldier
stopped breathing—the need for her
efforts was over. Settling down to await
the daylight, she must have dozed, for
when she opened her eyes again the
early sunlight was brightening the room
and, for a moment, she could not re-
member where she was. Then as her
glance rested upon the still figure on
the sofa, her weary mind shrank back
from the new problems of this new day.
Stiffly she straightened her aching
back and stood up. Resolutely she re-
minded herself of her prayer; bring
what the day might it must be met; she
would not shrink from events before
they happened. I'll keep busy: first, cof-
fee and toast; then a grave to dig—it
would not be well for a mob to find a
revolver and a dead Chinese soldier
on the place. After that the rooms to
straighten and a fresh fire to lay in the
grate. Then the meaningless, worth-
less valuables to pack away—not for an-
other hour should they emphasize the
•Ll6 CHINESE NIGHT
futility of mere possession. If more of him. She stated, later, that her joy un-
the day remained to her, other duties, nerved her "
But first she must look at that river on Mrs. Carson arose and stumbled to
which Jim had gone away—and never the window. Outside, a score of Ameri-
returned. She turned toward where the can bluejackets and a petty officer were
curtain was still pulled back, stopped coming up the lawn. The sailor on the
short, stared. For the first time her cour- porch turned as he heard her struggling
age failed her. This was the end. She with the catch, and spoke comforting-
knew that she had gone mad. With a ly: "All right now?— Fine!—- This
gesture of utter defeat she clasped her must be a weepin' country for the wo-
hands together and broke into frantic menfolks; that one down on the gun-
sobbing. At the window a face peered boat—Jenson's her name—sure cries
in—a boyish face surmounted by a aplenty! She cries a whole lot more'n
small white cap set at an incredible an- the baby, an' he ain't supposed to have
gle. Fixedly the visitor was gazing at the sense yet "
revolver on the table, at the still figure Mrs. Carson interrupted: "My hus-
on the sofa, at Mary Carson. band ?— Why didn't he come with
As the sound of her weeping reached you ?"
him, the face was withdrawn; for an "He's got a broken ankle—and lucky
appalled moment the owner of it con- to get off so easy!— Hi, ma'am! where
sidered flight—^but only for a moment, you goin' ?"
Settling his cap at a new angle he went She was running down the path,
to the brow of the river-bank and, with The petty officer intercepted her.
waving arms, commenced to signal. "Mr. Carson said you'd never leave
Then he returned to the porch. Silence without some antique stuff you set great
followed, broken only by Mrs. Carson's store by. This house won't escape being
uncontrolled sobbing. looted another day—the miracle is that
Other white caps and blue uniforms it's been let alone this long!"
appeared above the bank. The sailor on Mary Carson paused to explain about
the porch lifted up his voice. Upon the dead soldier, and to ask that a grave
Mary Carson's ears there fell an unprej- should be dug for him. She added a few
udiced description of how her tragic af- directions and went on.
fairs looked to a casual observer: At the top of the bank where the path
"She's here! And I'd say the other dipped down to the river she turned to
fellow was the one to worry about!" Ag- look back at her home. By another eve-
grievedly the sailor added: "Was she ning the blossoming flower-beds would
glad to be rescued ? She was not! The be trodden into the earth, the house
minute she saw me she commenced to given over to pillage. But now it stood
cry so loud that I was scared to tell her like an accusing monument to her past
her husband was waitin' down aboard mistakes, her selfish absorptions. What
the gunboat! 'Fraid she might do like might she not have done for Ah-ne,
that dame in Brooklyn, who thought working on because of bitter need, until
her husband's ship was lost—him with that hideous night engulfed her ? And
it—an' when a reporter went to cheer the servants, lurking in cellars, fearing
her with the news that her man was for their lives? Even for the Liangs,
saved, she threw boilin' water out onto done to death in their great palace; or

PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
 T H E S P I R I T OF T H E G A M E
the soldier-representative of China's ex-
ploited, baffled millions? No one had
turned to her. And yet—once her atten-
tion and interest were captured—she
was kind.
More slowly Mrs. Carson went down
the path. Tears were in her eyes. Fierce-
The Spirit of the Game
BY H. W. WHICKER
Author of "From Prize-Ring to Professor"
UMAN nature has not changed
H in the last thirteen thousand
years; there is a strong possi-
bility that it will not change in the next
twenty thousand. The surface calm is
broken by an occasional squall: a king
toppled from a throne, a revolution, a
flurry of war, a theory, a dogma, a law;
but the depths are undisturbed.
And life is a game from beginning to
end, from dawn to dusk: a child sob-
bing over a sawdust doll, a mother pro-
tecting her offspring with her life;
youth plunging the line, bounding
down the cinder lane, or pulling an oar
for the school; maturity marching into
battle for an oil-well in Mesopotamia, a
coal-field in the Ruhr, a shipping-lane
in the North Sea, or a rubber-plantation
in the Indies. It was so upon the first
day, it will be so upon the last.
Victory is the lady for whose favor
we enter the lists; she is the spirit of the
game, the motive with which we en-
dure the privation of the play. And one
game is not different in principle from
another; its effect upon the individual
soul is the same. Youth has its captain,
its referee, its book of rules; maturity its
PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG
ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
lly
ly she whispered: "I've finished forever
vs^ith things! From now on I'll build
my hfe on the intangible: sympathy,
kindness, understanding^these as a
thank-offering that Jim was spared.
With him alive nothing else will ever
really matter!"
generals, its judges on the bench, its
laws; and there is no little dishonesty
on the field in the meantime: a forbid-
den blow in a tangled pyramid of hu-
man flesh, sly holding in the line, a trip
of the leg oii tackle, and no end of busi-
ness is business over the counter. If
youth has sacrificed an occasional life
or limb to the gridiron, maturity has
but recently drenched the European
playfield of business with the blood of
nine million lives. But consideration of
casualty is beside the point in any ven-
ture; Death is at every corner, at every
turn of the road, in every bed at night,
in the food we eat, the water we drink,
Nor can the importance of material
weigh in the discussion. A robust lad
may play football all his life and carry
as much to the tomb as the capitahst.
The issue rests wholly in the playing of
the game, whetlier it is heroic or un-
heroic; sportsmanlike or unsportsman-
like; dragged out half-heartedly, or
pushed manfully through to a conclu-
sion. And when the matter is reduced
to this premise there is much to be said
in favor of the sports and games of col-
lege youth.